U Turns
by onemakaveli96
Summary: He has been shaken, but she does not have it in herself to pull him back together. Three meetings post the island, three times Jack pleads, three times Kate doesn't listen. Oneshot.


**Title:** U-Turns  
**Summary: **_He has a more noticeable stubble than the one from two months ago, alcohol is evident on his breath, and he no longer stands firmly on his feet. Ironically, it attests to his actual state of mind. He has been shaken, but she does not have it in herself to pull him back together._  
**Characters: **Jack/Kate  
**Theme: **Salvation  
**Rating: **T**  
****Note: **R&R, Enjoy.******  
**

* * *

His hand is flat on her stomach, her back against his chest, and their jagged breaths correlate with the thumping of their hearts.

Her right hand touches on the one hand against her stomach, her legs struggle but remain firm on the ground, and her lids flutter. Open. Close. Open. Close.

"Jack," she whispers. It comes out raspy, but the tone of his name is as soft and light as his hand that rests easily at her hip, the one that is telling her to stay, but is not forcing her to do so.

His foot shifts slightly in the sand that's keeping them parallel to the wavering ocean. The roar of an impatient wave moves with his mouth--"You came."

Open.

Most times, his voice wakes her, makes her cease her steps, breathes an air too unpolluted that her lungs must get accustomed before she can breathe a thing. Sometimes it makes her lose her footing, pushes her to dive into the safest harbor, gives way to self-justification so she won't have to handle guilt. Every time, against her interior reaction, she steers clear.

Her hand falls limp, body pulls away, the night skies and its moon skips over her line of sight, and she is breathing on her own.

A moment passes over, and when she has calmed herself sufficiently, she turns to look him in the eye.

"Why here, Jack?" she is stern, almost in charge, but no leader can be proclaimed yet. He hasn't opened an invitation yet, she hasn't rebutted an invitation yet.

With a stubble that has grown a little more since she last saw him, and darker eyes, he still stares at her as he does every time. And if it weren't for the black concrete that leads to the beach, and that is visible from where she stands, she could swear nothing has changed. Really, nothing for him has changed. He's still hurting over unfulfilled expectations.

"Kate, I…I…"

He can concoct a rendering speech to over a dozen stranded, hopeless, scared set of people at the drop of a button. But without anything within reach to amend, without anyone to fix but himself, he is at a stop-loss.

"They were right, Kate."

His voice is pleading. It always is. He does not dare patch up anything concerning himself, so he goes about doing what he can for others, crying for others when it is clearly not his duty. He is a self-appointed soldier who bears his losses on his shoulders--but really they are his crutches.

"Jack," when she closes her eyes this time, it's from exasperation.

"No, Kate," she hears his feet shuffle as he moves closer, can feel what is left of his spirit as he nears her. Even through the beautiful disaster that he has become, their line of communication remains intact, as strong as it was the day they met on that island. As strong as when he got barricaded underneath those rocks, as strong as when they were taken by the Others. As strong as when he told her not to come back, and as strong as when he told her he would come back for her. Another thing that has not changed.

"No--we can't fight this. It's stronger than us."

If she weren't so tired of the calls, the random meetings, the lies, his tragedy, she would have scoffed. Whatever 'it' was, had caused far too many problems for her to return to the scene of the crime.

"Jack, this is all in your head," she meets his eyes, brows furrowed, arms crossed over her chest.

"You know something's not right, Kate. You can feel it," he places his hands on her shoulders, his eyes piercing through hers.

"You need help," she whispers, not wanting to scare him away. Not yet, at least.

His eyes shift through hers, as though she's the one whose mind and thoughts need to be re-organized, need to be taught. She does not waver, does not follow his eyes that sway right and left. And he drops his hands from her shoulders, found at another stop-loss.

* * *

Another two months, and they meet at the airport parking lot they usually meet at. She is not sure whether she prefers the beach he unusually wanted to meet up at those two months ago, but she knows the drive to the airport better. Maybe the ocean is a little harder. Strangely enough, though it never harmed her on the island, it is the sea that is the constant reminder of those days there, save of the actual plane crash that lasted not a day.

He has a more noticeable stubble than the one from two months ago, alcohol is evident on his breath, and he no longer stands firmly on his feet. Ironically, it attests to his actual state of mind. He has been shaken, but she does not have it in herself to pull him back together. She's already raising a kid that does not entirely belong to her, so she can't go off and nurse yet another person--because Jack does not belong to her (she's more aware of the truth than she lets on, but self-justification always comes into play).

He speaks more this time, does not mention the island straight off the bat, even gives her one of his half-smiles. But that half-smile of his has never fooled her, and her tenacity has never fooled him.

He's in a lighter mood this time, he's joking a bit, and she does not mind standing so close to him this time around.

Usually, he won't drink very much when they are going to meet up, but this time he has taken a bit more, but even that fact does not aid her when she's flush against him. They kiss, and they shouldn't, but the touch is contagious, and she's wistful. Wistful for the Jack that stood strong and lived for the greater good. He wasn't living for anything anymore though, just a dream in which she and he inhabited the same island on which they met.

In between their kiss, he whispers how they could have this (minus the alcohol and insanity) on the island, if only…

But she cuts him off with a _'Jack'_ and she backs away hastily. Tears forewarn her of their coming, so she bids him goodbye and backs out of his life. The island would have meant her insanity. This is where she belongs.

* * *

This time, it's four or five months. His stubble is no longer a stubble, but the beard of a man who has decided to give up--on the wrong(?) thing.

Her damned connection still puts the keys in her hand, makes her walk to her car, starts the ignition, and makes the drive to the airport.

She parks, but takes a moment before leaving her car when she spots him. He is not her Jack. But no matter the amount of time that has transpired between then and now, when they speak and when they touch, it's still fire.

He _is_ in there somewhere. But she _can't_ save him.

"We have to go back, Kate," it sounds like he wants to scream the words at the top of his lungs.

What tears her apart more than anything is how deeply he believes. What scares her the most is knowing why he wants to go back, and understanding why he would want to.

_Guilt._

Kate Austen knows very well of guilt. It is the exact opposite of hope, that thing with feathers.

This is the thing with loaded powder, the black cannon ball sent in your direction, that you aim to catch so the remnants of you will diminish completely already.

It is the cross entrenched upon your back, that causes you to fall, but you always stand back up in return, no matter how much you want to give up.

It is the entanglement of chains, too entwined to be set apart and to take off, but that still allows you to walk, even if the steps are small but hardly measured.

He is only a shadow of the man that he used to be, of that man she was so reluctant to love, but now longs for more than anything.

She has no one talk to about life on the island, and perhaps it's better that way, but that means not having anyone to understand or feel the loneliness that tugs at her every night. Because nightmares and memories still plague her, and if anyone could help her heal, it would be Jack.

But he's far more broken, because although he once was willing to heal over for her, with her, he feels he's not strong enough to stitch himself up when a constant reminder of those left behind is a part of her daily life.

So she stalks off, and now he is screaming, saying they have to go back. Tears come, and she all but wipes the little droplets that stain the perfect mask of make-up that covers shames and regrets.

Once upon a time, her Jack Shepherd strived to leave an island, because he believed that the island was _their_ damnation.

Once upon a time, her Jack Shepherd lied to save her from a life that meant _her_ damnation.

Once upon a time, a Jack Shepherd pleaded to return to an island that he believed was _his_ salvation.

But Kate Austen was already two for three, she is already at a seemingly safe harbor, and it would take more convincing for her to believe in him once again when he was the one to get them off that island to begin with. Because once again, they disagreed on their bearings--

She believed to be at a point of no return.

He believed in the point of no return being overcome.

She wanted to walk the straight line.

He wanted to take the U-turn.

Their connection just never failed to fail them--he was bound to fail her, she was bound to fail him.


End file.
